


Strange Tales of the Deadslayer

by Ravynsland



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, F/F, Futanari, Gender or Sex Swap, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-13 09:48:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28901385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravynsland/pseuds/Ravynsland
Summary: In this 80's animation-inspired story, Allan Douglas takes a few odd pills for his asthma. Without explanation, he finds himself transported to a strange world... with a new body to go with it.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	1. Birth of the Deadslayer

“Allan? Honey you remembered to take your medication right?”  
  
“Just a second I gotta finish this dungeon!” I call back as I hear my mom’s voice ring up from the floor below my room. Asthma can wait -- mythic keystone Black Rook Hold comes first, and my group’s almost to the final boss.  
  
“Allan? The doctor said 8pm every night, you need to take them.”  
  
“I’m... um, I’m taking them right now!” I call back, not taking them, and instead deftly blinking my night elf mage out of the way of Dark Obliteration; I’m too good to stand in the fire. I’ll grab the meds as soon as I finish this boss.  
  
A few heated minutes of arcane barrages and evading sleep-inducing mists pass and we finish the final boss, and I immediately start teleporting back for Dalaran, leaving the random group not a second too soon -- I can hear footsteps coming up the stairs now, towards my room. Crap!  
  
Darkening the screen of my computer as quickly as I can, I make a mad dash for the cupboard by the side of my bed, my fingers struggling to turn the child-proofed lid, slipping at the last second. The little orange prescription bottle falls at the carpet beneath my feet just as the door opens, flooding the corners of my small, darkened room with the harsh yellow light of the hallway outside, my mom silhouetted in that incandescent glow.  
  
“Allan?”  
  
I pause, not looking at the bottle but simply standing dumbly in the center of my own room. “...Yeah?”  
  
She arches one brow, then smirks very slightly, dipping to one knee to pick up the bottle off of the floor in front of me. “You drop something?”  
  
“I was just about to take them,” I confess sheepishly, sitting down on the edge of my bed. “Do you really think they’re gonna help?” I say, a little worry swelling in me.  
  
“Doctor Corben said they were something new, so they should work better than the others,” she sighs gently, sitting beside me and wrapping one arm around my shoulders and pulling me in. I look at my feet awkwardly, wiggling a little under her tight hug. “Maybe this will help you with... you know.”  
  
“Getting a job and getting out of the house someday?” I say, looking up to her and offering a weak smile. She frowns, and I immediately feel kinda bad. I guess that did sound a little mean.  
  
“You know you can stay here as long as you want. But _you’re_ gonna wanna leave some day. You’re nineteen now, you’ll want a life of your own. A career, maybe a girlfriend. Unless you’re gay. You’re not gay are you?”  
  
“I’m not gay, mom,” I chuckle. “But you know I’m working on Springlock Eternity.”  
  
“The video game?”  
  
“Yeah! I’m gonna get it finished and one day it’s gonna be great!”  
  
“Well... I hope that goes well. We can talk about it more in the morning if you want, I set up an appointment for you to talk to a friend of mine who says he might be able to get you a low-stress job.” She pats my shoulder and gets up, heading back for the door. “Have you considered turning the lights on in your little man-cave? I realize you’re not much for the sun but _some_ kind of light has to be good for you.”  
  
“I’ll think about it!” I call back as she leaves. “Goodnight mom!”  
  
The door clicks back shut behind her and I let out a breath. Yikes, an interview? I have plenty of work to do getting my game on its feet without worrying about a dayjob. Maybe there’s some way I can wiggle out of it. Just until I can get Springlock Eternity done and show it to the world.  
  
So this is me. Allan Douglas, nineteen years old, living at home, unemployed, severely asthmatic and suffering from just about every allergy in existence! It’s not so bad honestly -- it gives me a lot of free time, and all the socializing I don’t do gives me way more time to teach myself game design. And who knows, maybe the new meds actually will help-- holy crap I still haven’t taken those!  
  
I grab the bottle and head back to my computer, logging out of my game fully before grabbing my water bottle. The back of the bottle says two pills at 8pm, but something tells me 8:17 won’t be any kind of dealbreaker.  
  
The pills themselves look a little weird, nothing like my old asthma meds; these are strangely big, perfectly round and bright green, with no markings on them anywhere. I shrug and toss them down the hatch along with some water -- they’re tough to swallow but they go down after a moment of chest pain. Boomjams. Goodbye chronic affliction. Hopefully.  
  
I go back to my computer and spend the rest of my night studying. With high school over and college still a faraway dream, I nonetheless have a great deal of research and self-training to do if I ever wanna get an indie game off its feet. All the coding, all the design, not to mention the actual writing of the script itself! It takes time but I can’t help but stay optimistic -- all this work, one day, is gonna count for something, and then I won’t just be Allan, the kid that can’t breathe and has to stay at home all the time. I’ll be Allan D. Douglas, teen prodigy, creator of a bestselling new game.  
  
Glancing at the clock shows that more time has passed than I thought, and I’d better get to sleep. Taking a quick puff from my inhaler, I throw my shirt off and hop into bed. My stomach hurts a little bit; probably the new meds. I’ve had the weird experimental ones make me a little uncomfortable before and these ones are about as weird and experimental as it gets, from the look of them. I roll onto my side and just try to sleep. I’ll feel better in the morning.  
  
 **o-o-o-o-o-o-o**  
  
I dream, I think. I draw breath and I feel my fingers reach out as I am swallowed by blackness. That pain is gone but replaced with something else, a feeling of churning and swelling that overcomes me and blinds me, sending me stumbling, though my feet find no floor beneath them. I scream, and no sound comes out, but I feel my hands touch something. Water? Thicker, though. Like milk, or... syrup. My eyes open for the first time, and I look into the starry mirror before me, see the pale, skinny boy that I know. I see that form start to shift, shimmering and distorting, but don’t see how it changes before I slip forward, into the mirror. It gives way in that thick, shimmering liquid, almost like mercury, and then there’s darkness once again, a vast, starlit infinity.  
  
I see fire ahead but not its source. It seems to come from all around, before and behind me, like I’m being thrust through a canal of the void while light struggles to reach me, or perhaps funnels me onwards. I scream and feel bubbles come out of my mouth. Bubbles, no sound. I can’t breathe. Oh no, oh no no no I can’t breathe, I need my--  
  
Desperately reaching for my inhaler reveals that my pajamas are gone, and all that remains is pale skin, my pockets gone with them. I gasp for breath and I feel my lungs burn and shrink, feel my body collapse even as it swells. The cosmic highway of darkness before me serves as my womb as my body shifts and cracks, twisting, each of my limbs cavorting to a different dance as I’m reshaped and taken somewhere else. Wide, sprawling spiderwebs of lightning blast past my vision, filling the tube of darkness in which I descend, shooting towards me like a hungry maw of crackling light.  
  
I don’t realize that I’ve landed until I hear the sound of screaming. Not my voice, but so close. Coming from me, it has to be. I struggle up onto my hands and knees, gasping for breath, my skin stinging, bones aching from the ordeal I just went through. My fingers sink into a flat, dusty crust of earth beneath me and my breathing starts to slow, regulating itself without the inhaler for the first time since I can remember. As I did not recognize the scream, don’t recognize the sound of panting coming from my own mouth, the two hands beneath me are foreign.  
  
“Yikes,” I whisper. I shift one foot beneath me and use it to slowly stand, though the action is easier for me than it’s ever been. I close my eyes for a long moment, then open them, and take in the bleak, alien vision of a world that is not my own. Dusty shades of orange and violet envelop me as I take my first steps, stretching out and feeling... strange, different. I can hear voices though; those draw my attention and keep me trying to move forward, step after bare-footed step across the cracked earth below. Strange, dark plants block my vision of what’s ahead. Perhaps vines or perhaps flowers; these long, crawling things. Where in the world am I?!  
  
“Rise... rise before me, those who once fought against me,” I hear a man’s voice, low and dark. Almost... metallic. “Rise again and serve me as your cowardly hearts would not allow in life.” Holy smokes, that doesn’t sound good. That doesn’t sound good at all.  
  
I blink and start to move quicker, plumes of dust bursting up beneath my footfalls as I push my way past the vines and the strange structures they cling to. Monuments maybe, or very strange, inscribed trees. The vines grow more and more dense, small thorns raking along my skin but not piercing it, though I suspect they should have if I weren’t in crazy-land. My body’s on autopilot and I don’t stop to think that I should be careful, that I shouldn’t exert myself too much. I’m focused now, focused on finding the source of that voice, and I push past the last barrier of thick, thorny green flowers and out into a wide, flat area. The same dusty, gray-purple earth as before, though not as dry. This has seen caretaking at some point, and is dotted with gravestones like a honeycomb. Of most concern is the fact that the ground beneath those graves is beginning to churn and swell, pulsating as something rises beneath it, directed by an enormous man in a suit of deep black armor.  
  
“What’s--” I pause and almost choke, too jarred by the strange voice coming out of my mouth. It’s a little huskier than my old one, but... “What’s going on here?” I look up to the gigantic armored man, up on a great raised platform before the graveyard itself, possibly a place to read burial rites or something like that. A large cage is behind him, and I can see what looks like movement inside, but not through the thick metal bars.  
  
“Death. Rebirth.” The man says, turning his great helmeted head to face me, and I don’t realize until now that I’m still naked. Beneath that spiked black helm I can see no face -- only one large, central eye hidden within, one eye that burns a deep, furious golden color. “The rebirth of these cowards, killed in their struggle against Thodax. The rebirth of a world under my rule. And the death... of you, stranger.” The ground beneath him throbs once more and those graves begin to burst, the dead crawling free, clothes tattered and armor tarnished, necrotic flesh still clinging to dry, splintering bones. Their eyes -- or eye sockets -- glow that same mad yellow, and now their eyes are turning... focusing on me.  
  
“Risen traitors,” the armored figure continues. “...Destroy her.”  
  
I blink. Her? Wait, I... erm. Too much at once. Too much to deal with. I backpedal as the groaning, rotting bodies of armored warriors begin to find their feet and make their way towards me, and I look down. For the first time I take a moment to acquaint myself with the changes I underwent during my “trip” here, and let me tell you they are way, way more extensive than I thought!  
  
My gaze is first greeted by the sight of breasts, and not small ones either, though not, like, too big, ignoring the idea that any breasts on me should be too big because I’m... not a girl. My skin is smooth, almost as pale as it was but not quite as thin and sickly, more like a rich cream than a sheet of vellum. Strange markings crawl up the skin of my lean, muscled stomach, deep black in color and sweeping up across my body, along the underside of one of my breasts (that feels so weird to say!) and going who knows how much farther. My legs are long, smooth and strong, bearing the same unusual tattoos, and if I didn’t know any better I’d say I was taller than I was back in Detroit. What in the world is happening? What the _heck_ were those pills? Is this all a dream? Am I tripping or whatever? Did mom give me LSD?  
  
As usual so far, I don’t have time to continue my line of thought or investigation any further, as the dead begin to grow closer and closer, some extending bony claws or others wielding the weapons they were buried with, swords and axes and knives. I back up a few more steps and glance behind me -- that wall of thorns and vines again, there’s no way I’ll be able to wiggle through it before they get to me. Eesh, I always thought if I ever had to fight zombies I’d have a shotgun or something, maybe a tough Scarlett Johansson helping me. I didn’t think I’d _be_ the Scarlett Johansson in this scenario.  
  
Okay Allan, take a deep breath. This is what those two weeks of karate classes were training you for. You earned that yellow belt and now you’ve gotta use it. I barely manage to hold off a moment of panic as the lead zombie in the group lunges towards me, attacking with a balled, rotting fist. Twisting my weight to the side I move to block, throwing up my hand in a desperate move -- and blasting my forearm all the way through the thing’s elbow, its skeletal arm falling away and collapsing to the ground. I... didn’t think skeletons were that brittle. Are skeletons that brittle?  
  
I let out a frantic yelp as another one comes for me, swinging a long-hafted axe downwards in my direction. I bat it out of the way with one open palm, sending the axe flying out of the zombie’s grip and spiraling into -- or rather through -- the chest of a nearby risen soldier. It dawns on me all at once; this _is_ a dream, it has to be, and the dream is becoming lucid. They aren’t brittle, I’m strong! Hah! Time to smash some zombies!  
  
It all feels so real, so visceral, as I stampede forward, now taking no prisoners, my heart that of a lion now that I know I’m so much faster and stronger than my imaginary undead assailants. I smash my tattooed fist through the skull of one zombie, splattering it, and move onto the next, a barrage of brutal punches sending them flying or splitting them in half, depending on the angle of the hit. I can see a mane of blood-red hair whip and move when I attack, my hair. New hair for my new body.  
  
Moments pass, fast and wild, as I march across this dusty purple graveyard, launching out cannon-like kicks from my long, amazing legs that punch bowling-ball sized holes in these zombies, shearing through their rusted chainmail and breastplates like wet cardboard, bringing these risen enemy soldiers back to the rest they’d died to have. I look up, scowling and extending one finger at the armored figure, at Thodax. “You want some of this, big guy? Huh?!” I call out.  
  
“What... _are_ you?” the hulking man growls, that fearsome central eye narrowing to a slit. “Who are you to interrupt the arising of my new army?”  
  
“I’m Alla--” I pause, gritting my teeth, stepping up onto the mountain of skeletal bodies before me, my fists at my sides, dripping with black blood and gore. I’m not Allan anymore, am I? I can do things he never could. I’m better. “I’m Allara.”  
  
“Allara,” he spits the name in response, his massive figure taking a few steps backwards that shake the earth. My heart’s racing in my chest, I have no clue whether or not I could beat him in a fight or not, but I have no choice but to pretend. Wait, who am I kidding? This is my dream. Of course I ca-- “I shall remember your name, Deadslayer. When the Tora’sai is once again in my possession, we will meet once again. And on that day I shall not suffer you to live a second longer.” As the last word leaves his lips (helmet? not actually 100% sure this guy _has_ lips) he begins to glow with an outline of golden light, that sickly yellow seeming to seep from the joints in his armor until it envelops him. Then the light fades... and him within it, gone.  
  
So I stand victorious, in a strange world, standing triumphant atop a heap of the undead. Shouldn’t I be waking up now? Wouldn’t this be where the dream would usually end?  
  
“Stranger! You’ve... have you banished him? Is Thodax gone?” Yikes! The box! I’d almost forgotten about it! A voice is coming from inside, a girl’s voice. Maybe I have to free the damsel to complete the quest? _Then_ I wake up?  
  
I rush up over to the cage that Thodax left behind him, fiddling with the lock briefly before simply smashing one bare fist against it, causing the weak metal to shatter like a glass bottle against a concrete curb. Swinging the door open, I gasp, taking a little step back when I see what’s inside... or, um, who’s inside!  
  
I’d thought it’d be a girl, from the voice, but I had no idea it’d be... she’d be... like this! As she pulls herself out of the cramped cage and climbs forward on all fours, I can’t help but stare -- waves of beautiful blonde hair spill down her bare back, flaring out to the most amazing hips I’ve ever seen. She’s naked, as naked as I am, which reminds me once again of exactly how naked I am. If only I could find some kind of torn cloth to at least cover up the important stuff!  
  
“Warrior, you’ve saved me?” she whispers dreamily, looking up at me with huge green eyes and sitting up on her knees. Straightening her posture brings her amazing chest into view, her skin smooth and milky and her breasts around the size of my new ones, voluptuous and sporting just the right amount of natural hang. I blink, then blink again, strangled for words as I stare at her beauty, her smooth stomach and soft thighs beneath it.  
  
“I... um... y-yeah! I mean, that guy just turned tail after I took care of his army!” I stammer. To be fair, twenty or so zombies doesn’t count as an “army” but hey, his words, not mine. “A-a-are you okay? Ma’am? I mean miss?”  
  
“Truly you are as courageous, then, as you are beautiful,” she purrs. She doesn’t quite have an accent that I can place -- just a way of saying things that feels strange, older, like she’s from a faraway time or a faraway world, or both. From the state of things around here, both seems likely. Or just a really extreme case of one or the other. I stagger back one step as she leans in, wrapping her arms around my thighs and pulling close, a smile widening on her cherubic face as she looks up at me... then down between my legs. “Do I please you, warrior? You seem barely able to contain your desire.”  
  
My... my what...? I--  
  
Ooooh. Oooohhhhhhhhhhhhhh.  
  
When I woke up in this body I just kind of... y’know, assumed that everything was supposed to be where it went! But either a certain something came with me, or I’m a different kind of girl than the ones I’m used to. I hadn’t even noticed the slow swelling and rising of it, but as I’d gawked at the caged girl it had been picking up steam all along -- a big, cream-pale ding-dong between these tattooed thighs I have now! Now that I have a second to notice it, it’s definitely bigger than my old one, too, so maybe it didn’t transfer from my old body after all. Just another thing this body gets right that my last one didn’t.  
  
“My... desire, um...” I inhale deeply through my nose, trying to slow the pounding of my heart. This is _way_ scarier than the zombies were! The girl’s face is only a few inches from it, kneeling in front of me, her soft hands sliding up the sensitive backs of my thighs. “I mean-- yes! The Deadslayer finds you most... appealing.” I try to lower my voice a little, embracing the rippling, husky timbre of my new body.  
  
“I could not be more pleased, warrior,” the girl says, smiling up at me again. One hand drifts up from my thigh to gently wind her fingers around the base of my shaft, squeezing softly and bringing the tip to her lips, giving it a tender kiss that shoots a current of numbing ecstasy through my entire body. Before this I’d never even kissed a girl, but now... “Otherwise I may not be able to properly repay you for my rescue from that dreaded tyrant.”  
  
“That is, um, good then, maiden,” I stammer, bringing one hand down to gently trace through her honey tresses, finding them to be almost untouchably soft, like a kitten’s underbelly. “For you, I shall keep that foul creature at bay.” My chest heaves with the heaviness of my breath, causing my big, firm breasts to rise and fall, and I bring my free hand to one of them, clutching it softly, feeling a new spark of pleasure shoot through me when I tease the sensitive skin. “Show me how you will show your... uh, gratitude.”  
  
“With pleasure, my warrior,” the woman coos, nuzzling the tip of my donger and then pressing her lips back to it, kissing softly, then easing in to wrap her lips slowly around my tip. I thank whatever creative benefactor sent me here that she closes her eyes as she does this, so she doesn’t see mine go crossed from pleasure, and I find my hand tangling excitedly in her hair, holding her close.  
  
She sinks down a little more, then draws back, swirling her tongue lovingly around my crown before diving back again, taking me deeper this time. Her hand stays clasped tightly around the base of my shaft, not moving much at first, but now starting to slowly, shallowly stroke me while she sucks, not wasting too much time in showing her gratitude. I feel my tip press against what I can only assume is the back of her throat, but she shows no sign of distress or turning back -- instead she simply pushes forward, and I feel my new-and-improved dick push past her mouth and into her throat, snugly enveloped by loving wetness and softness.  
  
Her hand speeds up a little bit before finally drawing away, her mouth moving even closer now as she takes more of me into her throat and takes up a slow rhythm again. Her tongue rolls around and around my aching, throbbing shaft each time she bobs down on it, taking me as deep as she can, and as embarrassed as I am to admit it I’m not sure how much more of this I can take before I explode, it just feels so good, the way she sucks me so deeply while I fondle my sensitive boobs, rolling one in my hand as I hold her to me.  
  
Just when I don’t think I can take a single second more I get saved by the proverbial bell -- I see her hand descend, her legs starting to spread, and just like me she isn’t sporting the, uh, place where babies come from. While it’s (fortunately) not as big as mine, she’s packing a strudel of her own down there, as stiff as mine, and is now starting to playfully stroke it while she sucks me. I squeak -- trying to turn it into an awkward bark at the last second -- and take a step backward, panting heavily, heart pounding, my dick throbbing hungrily and still connected to the blonde girl’s mouth by a bridge of saliva. “W-wait... what are you...?!”  
  
“Playing with myself, my warrior?” She coos, biting her lip a little and spreading her legs a bit more, eyeing me sultrily as she strokes herself. “Did you want to watch?”  
  
“I... I mean, isn’t it... because I have one and... and you have one... isn’t it...?” I lower my voice to a whisper, trying to hide my momentary panic. “...Gay?”  
  
She tilts her head to the side, grinning. “Because we’re both girls? I thought you desired me, Deadslayer?”  
  
I blink, trapped by her logic. We are both girls. But we both have wangs. So... does that make it more gay? Or cancel it out? Technically it’s gay no matter what, right? And... I mean, she’s just playing with herself, so it doesn’t really affect me, does it? Like I’ve already crossed the point of no return, haven’t I?  
  
My paralyzed train of thought is distracted when I see the caged girl bring her other arm up below her breasts, squishing them upward before pinning them together, showing off a valley of cleavage that’s far too tempting for me to ignore. “Come, hero,” she whispers, still playing with herself with her other hand. “Come and exhaust your lust with my body, that I may earn the protection you’ve granted so selflessly.”  
  
You know what? Maybe being straight is overrated.  
  
I move back forward and place one hand on her shoulder, my breathing heavy as I press my hips forward, sliding my saliva-slick shaft between her big, beautiful boobs and feeling that silky flesh squish tightly around me. It feels even better than her mouth, if that were possible, though I find that as I thrust upward the tip of my (admittedly, totally big) dork peeks out from between that glorious canyon of joy, and she greets it lovingly with a flick of her tongue. I bite my lip to stifle a whimper and draw back, thrusting forward again, then again and again. While I’d first suspected that this might be a nightmare because of the zombies and everything, the truth has quickly become clear -- this isn’t a nightmare, this isn’t even a dream. I’m in heaven. And heaven is awesome.  
  
I hold myself tight to her and thrust up again and again, chewing my lips and letting out a husky moan, my chest heaving, my own tattooed breasts bouncing with every hungry upward thrust between those perfect boobs and into the waiting embrace of the blonde girl’s tongue. I can see and hear her still stroking her own dick beneath me, hear her own breathing picking up as she gets more invested, more eager. She rocks her chest forward into my thrusts, creating more of that friction -- no, not friction. Her boobs are too smooth for that, too slick with her saliva now. No friction, just pure speed and pleasure.  
  
My other hand finds her other shoulder and I rock up harder and faster, a long, melodic moan escaping my lips before meeting her own moan, forming a harmony in the shattered sky of this strange new world. If this is a dream, I hope I never have to wake up. She sinks down and wraps her lips around my dick and I feel her moan and spasm around me, her arm moving frantically as she jacks herself off, and I feel a course of spasms shake through her as she hits her climax.  
  
Pressed tight between her boobs, I can feel her heart race against me, and I close my eyes as I keep rocking my hips up and down, held in those heavenly pillows and throbbing with need, and finally I unleash as well, my virgin mind unable to hold on any longer even if my body might be more efficient. I may not have had sex before but I _have_ masturbated, and I know for sure that I’ve never blown this much before in my life -- but I guess along with my bigger dong I’ve got a bigger blast to go with it, and several thick jets of hot jizz shoot out of me at ballistic speeds. The girl draws back just in time to get her face painted by it, her mouth opening to catch a few strands before the rest trails down her neck, pooling between her breasts and making a mess of her.  
  
I stagger back a step and see the fruits of her own climax -- her stomach and the undersides of her big, gorgeous boobs are covered in her own semen, her donger laying across her thigh as she pants, her eyes closed, almost drunk with satisfaction. “My... m-my warrior...” she pants softly, biting her lip as her eyes open again to look at me. “Why am I left feeling that you’re the one who repaid me? Surely there must be even _more_ I can do to please you.”  
  
My eyes widen, and while my old body would have been wheezing and exhausted after getting off like that, my new one feels like it could keep going forever. I look down, past my breasts and down to my huge wang, watching it pulsate and then rise again, ready to go once more. I’m not waking up, either. Maybe it’s time to face the truth... maybe I really am here. Maybe I’ve left my old body behind. Maybe Allan’s gone.  
  
And I couldn’t be happier to be Allara.

* * *

_Hey, Lexi here! Looks like you enjoyed this! There's a ton more content -- along with author's notes, other projects and tidbits, even polls and other goodies -- over on my[Patreon](https://www.patreon.com/RavynsLand/) page! If you liked this, I think you'll really like my work over there, and I'd love your support! Peace! <3_


	2. Chapter 2

The light of three moons cascades along her naked figure, each dancing, spiraling before coalescing in washes of color, decorating her perfect body as she rocks upwards, then falls down once more like an angel’s descent to earth. Colors glint along the thin sheen of sweat that coats her soft, light skin; and beyond, only darkness envelops the two of us. She leans down, and her waterfall of bright golden hair shimmers with an opalescent green, followed by clear, bright blue before mingling with a vibrant, flaming orange. Her hair spills down around her neck and around the gentle heart-shape of her face, and her lips meet mine, entangling me, entrenching me in a long, deep kiss.

Where I’m from I’m used to just one moon, one moon sluggishly revolving around the world I once knew. Now with the night having fallen and the sky darkened into a fierce pitch, it makes the colors of those rapidly orbiting celestial bodies glow and shimmer, picking up every small reflection, and making my newly-freed lover seem to glow in the dark -- dazzling colored blackness lighting her like a beacon in my night-adjusted eyes. We kiss hard, and I feel her tongue entering my mouth to slide and stroke across my own, and she continues to rock up and down in my lap, keeping her divine figure in perpetual motion as my fantasy maiden rides my strange and amazing new figure, eager to please me like no person’s ever been.

“I’m yours, strange hero,” she whispers, backing away slightly, kissing me again. The two of us lay on the fallen petals of the weird flowers from the thorny forests beyond, a soft and shifting bed of delicate violet.

“Your name,” I whisper back. There should be a question mark there, I feel, but the question itself is quick and hushed, more a demand than a query. The girl smiles -- I can feel her lips curl against mine as she answers breathlessly within the soft cage of our kiss.

“Ciphia,” she answers, smiling again, kissing me again, and I feel her tighten around me -- clenching the forbidden entrance she willingly offered around the new-and-improved rod I won along with my ironically feminine figure. “And you are Allara, my savior.”

Yeah, I am. Allara. The Deadslayer, she calls me. Thodax called me the same thing. Because I killed those zombies? That’s a really specific nickname to catch on so fast. Then again... it is kinda catchy, isn’t it?

Regardless of what I’m known as here, Allan has no place in this world. If I awaken -- if I wake up; crap, this world is changing the way I think! -- then so be it. But for now I need to embrace the world I’m in. And it’s a far, far better world than the one I left.

I lean into her kiss, my own tongue extending to meet hers as our embrace deepens, intensifies. I thrust my hips upward and I feel her whimper into my mouth, her own rhythmic rocking in my lap not slowing, meeting my own erratic, hungry thrusts forward. I feel her snug entrance flex and then relax, easing slickly up and down along my aching shaft again and again, and though I try to ignore it I can feel the stiffness between us, the feeling of Ciphia’s rigid member trapped between our flat stomachs. I have too many questions to bother asking any at all, and instead I focus all of my attention on this rescued blonde. On Ciphia.

She gasps and breaks our kiss, straightening back up in my lap, perpendicular to my prone form and bouncing up and down on top of me, bathed in the erratic neon moonlight of this impossible world. Her full, sumptuous breasts jiggle and leap with every downward drop of her weight against me, her scintillating hair a shifting, bouncing maelstrom of color that hypnotizes me even as I’m entirely enveloped by the transcendent pleasure she gives me.

I thrust inside of her, again, then again, and she nestles her backside down around me as her snug back hole spasms around me. I’m slick from our earlier play, her saliva and my own spunk mixing into a bubbly, sticky mixture that made it perfectly easy for her to mount me and take me while proclaiming she was mine. No complaints here. I stare captivated as her breasts bounce in place as she hops onto me again and again, and now I’m confronted with an unavoidable view of this girl’s own meatstick -- the way it wobbles and flexes, tensing with hardness from the pleasure I’m giving her backside. She tenses again, whimpering, and her eyes meet mine, big and green and adoring, and we connect in this strange way, this primal way, like nothing I’ve ever experienced. For the first time I’m within another person and in that sense we’re one, we’re joined.

I reach upwards to grip one of her full breasts, feeling it squish against my fingers, resistant yet pliable, big yet firm, still slick from the deposit I made on it earlier. I prop my knees up and thrust my pelvis upwards, driving into her snug back entrance and finding my hips inexhaustible -- while my breathing rises with excitement my body doesn’t seem to tire, and I go faster, faster, and I hear Ciphia let out a cry of ecstasy that shakes her entire body, causes her to quake and spasm. The heavy swells of her perfect breasts shudder and almost vibrate with the intensity of her shaking, her hard dick tensing before unloading onto me, coating my firm tattooed stomach and firm breasts with her cream... even as I return the favor.

My breath catches as I look up at her, going numb in places as I watch her gasp with pleasure of her own, seized in the throes of her own climax which only grow more intense as I release within her. I feel pulse after pulse rock me, a look of realization and excitement dawning on Ciphia’s face as she realizes I’m filling her, pumping her full of what I was taught was for making babies and nothing else. Oh well -- new world, new rules.

Ciphia falls down against my chest, panting, whimpering in the aftershocks of her pleasure as she buries her face between my soft breasts, arms wrapping around me as she joins me in our combined stickiness. Her breathing is rapid and shallow, but slows -- I shiver as I feel her gentle kisses start to trail up my chest and neck, to my jaw, nibbling my ear. “Thank you again for saving me, Deadslayer,” she whispers softly. “But I must confess something.”

I let out a soft breath of my own, my hands tracing lightly along her hips, then sides, then up across her smooth back. At this point, she could tell me anything. “What... what is it?”

“I may have acted selfishly in how... generously, I rewarded you,” she looks up at me with a wicked grin, kissing my lower lip gently, then suckling it. “And I have absolutely no regrets.”

Eesh. I’ve spent my whole life using the internet as my girlfriend and now girls are trying to manipulate me into nights of passion? Yeah, this has gotta be a figment of my imagination; nothing this amazing could be real.

I fold my arms around her waist and hold her gently to me, my breath steadying as I relax against the bed of alien flower petals we’ve made. My eyes drift into slits as I feel Ciphia’s heartbeat slow, enjoying the strange lightshow of this world’s fast-moving moons, the way their colors combine and splatter across the darkness like the frenzied strokes of a mad painter across an impossible landscape of flowers, thorns, and strange hills of dark earth. Above me is space and those frantic celestial bodies, the stars ebbing and drifting, rearranging, lulling me into a deep sleep.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

I’m awoken by a sunrise, or... what I assume must substitute a sunrise in this world. Bright white flames seem to cavort along the skyline independent of any single specific nexus of heat and light that might designate an actual solar system -- dispelling the multicolored day-glo darkness with light.

I blink my eyes and sit up, and a big part of me expects the world to be back to the way it was, in my own bed, wheezing from poor sleep, the sounds of my mom making breakfast on the floor below. That’s not what I’m greeted by, and more and more I’m being forced to accept the possibility, if not the certainty, that this is my new reality. That the transformation and transport I underwent are... if not permanent, certainly real.

“You’re awake, Deadslayer,” I hear a whisper by my side, and the warmth of Ciphia’s body reminds me of her closeness, cuddled into my side and nuzzling one of my tattooed breasts tenderly. “Thodax shall be far away by now, as he has yet to return.”

I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment. Thodax. Dark lord. Possibly an evil robot sorcerer. Normal stuff that happens every day. “Where will he be?” I ask. I’m at a disadvantage here, at least as far as Ciphia is concerned. I should get as much information from her as I can.

“I’m uncertain,” she whispers back, sitting up and rolling over onto me, laying flat on my body so that she can kiss my lips again. I can feel her smooth girlshaft, semi-hard from sleep, press tenderly into mine. I don’t resist. “But we should return to my village before he strikes again. We know his plan now, yes?”

Plan? He had a plan? Raise the dead, and um....

“The Tora’sai!” Ciphia exclaims. “I can ask my father about it. One of our elders, or sages, must know of its location. We merely need to get it before he does.”

Right. The Tora’sai. How could I forget that. To be honest, I do remember Thodax mentioning something that would grant him some kind of ultimate power, but I was pretty understandably distracted at the time. “Where is your father, then?” I ask, lightly touching my nose to hers. These small gestures of intimacy are still incredibly sweet to me, unique, delightful. I’m still riding the high of last night, the power and... apparent desirability of my new form.

“It isn’t far from here,” the blonde whispers, her arms wrapping around my middle, holding me as much as a sensual gesture as a call for protection. “Past the star-marsh. I can take you.”

I nod a little, nuzzling her soft, sweet hair and starting to sit up. “Let us go then,” I say, dramatically. “I would learn more of this Thodax, and the Tora’sai he so desires. And--” my stomach releases an intimidating growl. “I hunger.”

“There shall be feasts from wall to wall of the great winehalls of my father, Deadslayer,” Ciphia coos, kissing my cheek, her hand brushing up to firmly grope my breast, sending an impulse of pleasure shooting through me. “I shall see to it.”

A few moments pass, and I have risen up, stripping away the banner of one of the fallen soldiers I killed last night -- enough fabric to make a loincloth of sorts. While my new body may be amazing, I still don’t wanna walk around with my wanger hanging out, y’know? Ciphia follows suit, making a simple covering for herself but leaving her enthralling breasts exposed, just as I, perhaps hypocritically, also did. “Point me in the direction of your village...” what do I call her? What sounds badass? Badasses don’t call people by their names, right? “...Maiden.”

Ciphia inhales deeply, taking a quick look around. We’re just outside of the cemetery where we encountered Thodax, now, and it only takes her a few moments to get a general direction. “This way.”

I nod, stretching my back slightly and starting to walk behind her, keeping my eye out for any danger. Ordinarily this would be the last thing I’d do -- after all, not noticing danger means you aren’t responsible for it, right? -- but I do feel responsible for Ciphia now. Not only that, but after my encounter with the undead I feel more than capable of providing a challenge to any random encounters we find along the way.

The star-marsh ends up being very much as I might have imagined it; a swamp of strange, clear, black water amidst short hills and tall reeds, spongy and wet and extensive, unavoidable on our route to the village Ciphia was kidnapped from. Within that water -- I’ll call it water due to a total lack of understanding of what it actually is -- is blackness, sparkling and twinkling, like a whole new cosmos within its depths.

We move forward, carefully squelching our bare feet through the wetness and muck, the sky squirming and scintillating with these frantic light sources above us. It’s only a ways past the cemetery that I start to see strange machines burbling out of the clean-smelling but foul-looking swamps, rusted but struggling to operate. Failing. I can’t tell what they might have been for.

“They used to pump water to our village,” Ciphia says softly, noticing my gaze. “Before Thodax tainted the water with his corruption.”

“Who is this Thodax, anyway? I know he wanted to raise an army of fallen soldiers, and... something about a Tora’sai, but--”

“Thodax is the darkness that corrupts all life. Conquers, destroys, seizes,” Ciphia murmurs as she makes her way around a deeper poor of black, void-like liquid. “With the Tora’sai he’ll take more, and our life will be over. Our water, our trading routes. There will no longer be villages or cities. Only his empire.” Her voice takes on a sort of gravity, and I glance towards her, taking in the look of melancholy on her face. She’s seen more than she lets on.

“I’ll do everything I can to stop him,” I growl. Yeesh, either I’ve fallen head over heels or I’ve totally lost my mind! Fighting the guy on the spot is one thing, but now I’m agreeing to go to war? Did I get bumped on the head on my way to this weird place? “How far is your villa--”

“By the archons.” I hear her horrified whisper beside me, and feel my fingers tighten to fists in anticipation. I know nothing of the archons, but I know an exclamation when I hear it. I look to her face, to those big emerald eyes, and follow their direction -- facing forward and a bit to the left, to what I had seen as only a mound of swampy earth. Ciphia, however, sees beyond it; sees the plumes of smoke drifting up behind that rise of ground. “We have to hurry!” she shouts, dashing off ahead of me.

I catch up quickly, oddly, and have to slow down to match her pace as my powerful new legs pump beneath me. I can see the smoke too now, and I can only assume that it’s her village. Perhaps this Thodax struck earlier than any of us thought? Enraged by my defiance?

The sucking bogs of the star-marsh begins to exhaust Ciphia and I lift her up with one arm, draping her soft frame around my neck and charging forward, inexhaustible, unstoppable, fueled by the power rush of my new form. The wet squelching void beneath my feet tries to drag me down with every step but is no match for my brute strength. In moments I am free of the swamp and sprinting, carrying Ciphia along my shoulders, along a plane of flat, crimson-grassed ground towards the source of the smoke.

I hear inhuman shrieks in the distance. Ciphia flinches at the sound, as if she’s heard it before. Something animalistic.

I charge forward with her in my arms, feeling my muscles throb indomitably as I race across intraversable terrain, making my way closer and closer to the source of the smoke. When I crest that hill I can see the village below -- along with a strange sea even blacker than the pools of the marsh, seemingly endless -- and I race towards it, keeping my breathing even. I’m the hero here. Can’t flag out.

When I arrive at the wooden gates I set Ciphia down beside me, storming past the open palisade and into the village beyond, to be treated to a sight of carnage. The people of this place, Ciphia’s people, have been all but wiped out -- many lie dead, more in cages to be taken away for some unknown purpose. The culprit though, does not appear to be Thodax, nor any army of corpses he may have raised. What now occupies this small town makes me pause, makes me remember my situation, the... incredulousness of where I am and what I’m doing.

“Those are dinosaurs,” I whisper, freezing in my tracks. Not only dinosaurs, though -- these stampede through the village equipped with advanced weaponry, flamethrowers strapped to the shoulders or sides of raptor mounts, or tyrannosaurus stampeding through the town without riders. Pterosaurs scream through the flame-lit skies above, lasers shooting out of the lightweight weaponry packs strapped to their airborne bodies. Upon each creature of suitable size is a rider; their skin in varying shades of violet through blue. I spot four arms and two legs upon each of these alien creatures as they set down cages and traps, capturing the remaining members of Ciphia’s tribe (which appear to be normal humans like me).

Bare-chested and loincloth-clad I charge into the fray of bodies, of savage raiders and their mounts. Without a weapon I lash out with a punch, sending one large raptor flying along with their rider as I charge forward. The beasts and riders are entirely dominating the small village they’ve invaded, clearly not expecting much of a fight -- but neither did they expect me. With the outstanding speed and strength of my new body I leap up, grabbing one flying creature from the air and latching my fingers onto both wings. I feel it strain against me and hold me aloft for a moment; its lean, tall rider crying out in some alien language as I tear off one wing, then the second, sending the beast diving to the ground and its rider along with it.

“Lu-at! Chat sha-ta al hat-t!” I hear the cry of a female rider, racing towards me on what can only be some kind of massive raptor, flamethrowers strapped to either side of the rapidly-charging beast. She herself -- clad in an elaborate metallic harness and wielding a strange lance of alien make -- rushes towards me with a flurry of forward strikes, her mount lashing out at me with teeth and claws.

It all seems to go so slow to me. It’s so bizarre, still unused to my new strength and my new speed. Nonetheless, I duck out of the way of her piercing, extended blade, rolling nimbly to the side to avoid the gnashing jaws of the fierce, lavender-skinned warrior woman’s mount. I pause and take in the sight of the woman herself, trying to figure out her specifics -- she’s taller than me, yes, by perhaps a foot. Two rows of short, sharp horns trail along the sides of her skull from the temple backward, flanking a lustrous, narrow black mane of hair. The second pair of arms extend from just beneath her shoulders and are very slightly smaller than the first, though as well-muscled as the rest of her athletic, long-torsoed figure. Burning orange eyes make her beautiful in a primal way, but I don’t have time to think about that now. Right now, I have to kill some dinosaurs.

A sentence I really never thought I’d say, but I gotta admit I’m so glad I got to.

I roll nimbly to the side, dodging the forward lance attack and then seizing my strength, charging upward with my knee and crashing into the neck and head of the large raptor she’s riding, sending it flying and the alien woman along with it, out of the fray the moment and letting me focus on something else... though it looks like I might have been too late. In the moment I hesitated to examine my alien attacker I hear a squeal, the raised pitch of the familiar voice of Ciphia, and my eyes rapidly track the sound. I can see her pale legs, draped over the shoulder of one of these alien raiders as she’s dragged away, strapped to the back of an enormous purple triceratops. It, along with an escort of lighter beasts and riders, begin to drag the caged villagers towards the back of the town, towards the strange, starry abyss that makes up its shoreline and towards the strange, primitive-looking ships at its port.

“Ciphia!” I roar out, though my voice is drowned amongst the sea of primal screeches and shouts in that strange, clipped alien language. I begin to run towards her, my legs pumping beneath me in long, powerful strides -- as much a series of leaps as true sprinting. The ships are large, there’s no way they can load onto them before I reach them, even if--

I’m blasted off course by a bolt of bright blue light, strafed across my body from one of the flying dinosaurs circling and flanking above. I can see more lasers coming at me, bright blue in color -- then more from another direction, bright green. Now bright pink from behind. I grit my teeth and let out a growl, hopping up and landing both bare feet onto the rough back of a stegosaurus, digging my toes in before using my momentum to bound upward, catching one of the harassing pterosaurs by its neck and dragging it downward. I ignore the alien screams of its male rider (who I notice seems a bit shorter and slighter than the females) as he falls off of his mount. He’s the lucky one, here.

Snarling, I form my fingers into a fist and ram them into the flying pest’s ribcage, reaching in deep to take a firm hold of its spine from within. The creature lets out one last gurgling shriek and goes rigid, the sharp, saw-toothed makeshift blade of its beak now firmly in my grasp. Landing back on my feet and on ground level I whirl in an arc, neatly bisecting a charging raptor before leaping again, this time targeting a larger mark -- a tyrannosaurus, so large that it requires multiple handlers, seated in a small, spiked metal hut on its back. It charges me, jaws opening and the flamethrowers at its shoulders gushing out a bright orange inferno in my direction, but I duck and roll forward, narrowly avoiding the cones of fire. Crouching beneath it as it starts to lose balance, I lash up with the sharp beak of the stiffened pterasaur I’m using as a puppet, making puncture after deep puncture in the thing’s soft underbelly and causing it to stumble forward harder. I can hear the screams of its riders above and see one abandon the mount entirely, and I toss aside the beak-gauntlet to grip the bigger beast’s skin, starting to climb up its side.

It stumbles, but I hold on fast, dodging a laser from above and finally climbing up to the top, kicking off the metal hut on the t-rex’s back (along with its remaining inhabitant) before crawling towards the great beast’s head. I’m not sure if I’m filled with rage or drunk with power, but I know that if I’m going to save Ciphia I need to get these things off my back, and that means denting their numbers. I reach for the rex’s top jaw and draw it back, feeling it strain to snap its jaws shut around my hand... but it fails, struggling against my strength and frantically gnashing its lower jaw, already weakened from my deep, repeated stabs to its underside. Climbing up higher I plant my feet on its neck, my muscles straining as I reach to grab the lower jaw with one hand, then forcing my arms apart, pushing with everything I’ve got until I finally hear that satisfying pop.

The beast falls and I fall with it, hopping down to ground level at the last second and turning, ripping the lower jaw off of its head entirely and swinging the massive thing in a sharp circle, tossing it towards another pterasaur and sending it soaring out of the sky. I duck out of the way of another barrage of laser fire but one of those strange lances catches me from behind, hitting my shoulder and sending me stumbling forward. I turn and react, lashing out with a punch that I’m fairly certain kills the offending raider on impact. I don’t sit around to find out.

Breathing hard, I stumble to the side, and I’m starting to feel fatigue setting in... but no, can’t stop yet. I can see that big beast loaded onto the ship and see it start to pull away. I can still get there, I can still save Ciphia. I didn’t rescue her from Thodax just for her to get taken away this quickly. I grit my teeth and start to run forward again, kicking off the back of a fallen stegosaurus and leaping up, grabbing another pterosaur and redirecting it, riding its descent downwards and targeting its auto-firing laser pack at another incoming flying rider, hitting her, sending her spiraling away before tightening my grip on the pterosaur I’m using as a hang-glider, throwing it down to the ground and pouncing a raider and his raptor mount. The raider is swatted aside, but the raptor gets far worse as I reach between its shoulder blades, grabbing its spine and tearing it free along with the two shoulder-mounted flamethrowers that appear to be attached to it with some kind of simple, invasive machinery.

As the fuel packs continue to spew fire in all directions I grab the base of the spine, whirling it in wide, rapid circles, smashing into everything that dares come near me, sending warriors and their mounts skidding backwards, burned or beaten, collapsing into their fellow raiders. The ship is starting to move, along with the others, sliding out along strange, transparent space-canals and taking Ciphia with them. I roar out, flexing the muscles of my tattooed back and smashing my improvised flame-whip downwards, shattering the fuel tanks and creating a massive blast of fire and bone shrapnel, sending countless aliens flying backwards in the inferno... including me.

I struggle to get up, to stand again, my vision bleary, and I feel more lasers start to drill into my inhumanly tough skin, sending me staggering, falling again each time I try to stand. I blink my eyes and try to look up, reaching around for some kind of weapon... but all I can see are the raiders, circling around me now with different kinds of lances. Lances with hooks and collars at the end. I feel one clasp around my neck, then my wrists, then my ankles, and I feel a sharp blow to the back of my head.

Then, only darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, Lexi here! Looks like you enjoyed this! There's a ton more content -- along with author's notes, other projects and tidbits, even polls and other goodies -- over on my Patreon page! If you liked this, I think you'll really like my work over there, and I'd love your support! Peace! <3 https://www.patreon.com/RavynsLand


	3. Maw of the Xa

My first sensations upon awakening are that of cold metal around my wrists and ankles, a dull ache in my arms from being stretched in the wrong position for too long. My knuckles flex and crack as I form a tight fist, muscles straining as I pull against what binds me. It strains, but doesn’t break.

“Shu-at ra-r at lahk... chrrrrrrr.” Now that’s a language I’d recognize anywhere! More importantly, it means I’m in some seriously deep caca. I blearily open my eyes, blinking them a few times to clear the specks of color and fog from in front of them, and only then do I get a chance to examine my surroundings.

It’s a cell of some kind, from what I can tell, with a tight cage of criss-crossing metal beams isolating me from the earthy hallway without. The cell itself is likewise bizarrely organic, the ground beneath my bare feet spongy and moist, like a bed of moss or fungus, though the cell appears to be fashioned from the stuff rather than merely built around it. Let’s just hope my new body doesn’t have the same moss allergies that my old one had.

Opening my eyes completely, I steady my gaze and face it towards my captors, two women now chuckling quietly to themselves as they watch me stir to consciousness. They’re the same kind of tall, four-armed aliens that I was having such a field day with, the same ones who captured Ciphia and took her who-knows-where. Both are lean and light violet in color, though one (the one who spoke) sports much longer hair and bigger, um... boobs, while the other is somewhat more slight in stature and has darker, more refined horns in two uneven rows along her skull. Both are topless, wearing long loincloths made of what looks like some odd plant fiber, or maybe the skin of some animal I’ve never seen -- in this crazy place, I honestly can’t make too many assumptions.

“Hi hi hi... so-al-at nar’thath,” the second one replies to her friend, a grin spreading across her face to reveal ferocious-looking teeth, and an unsteady chuckle rippling out from her chest, her firm breasts jiggling distractingly as a result. I wish I could say my eyes don’t turn to them and then promptly stay there, but... well. Y’know. Lying isn’t cool.

“Uhhh. Hi to you too?” I croak, my voice hoarse from disuse. I try to pin one foot beneath me but find it doesn’t quite fit, needing to hold myself up by my tip-toes while my wrists remain shackled to the solid metal wall behind me. “I don’t suppose you’re here to let me out.”

Not giving me an answer, the first of the two alien girls lets out a giggle of her own, just as uneven and lilting as her friend’s, and but this time I notice where her -- and her friend’s -- gaze has come to rest. I swallow, and look down, finding that the loincloth I’d fashioned for my own self last night is very, very gone, leaving my newly-enhanced dong completely exposed for all to see. Even more embarrassing, it’s already gone out of its way to bely my enjoyment of the two aliens’ casual nudity, showing off its true size as it slowly lifts from an inert to a half-erect state.

“Hi hi hi hi! Shu-that an’l hoor-at. Noooooool,” the first girl continues, pulling up a little closer to me and looking up at me with her big, blood red eyes, grinning wickedly as she brings one of her excessive supply of hands up along my inner thigh, teasingly tracing her fingers along it. I shudder and clench my teeth, trying not to whine or moan or otherwise make an idiot out of myself. I’m supposed to be tough, right? I’m the, um... crap. What am I again? Allara the... the, um... the Deadkiller? Something like th-- Deadslayer. Nevermind. I remembered it. I’m Allara, the Deadslayer. I need them to remember that.

But that’s really really really hard when the other cute four-armed alien girl has pulled up to my other side, wrapping one of her three-fingered hands around the base of my dork and squeezing it firmly, a weird purring sound rumbling out from her chest. Flanking me and pressing her body lightly against my hip, she winds another arm around my waist to hold me in place, trailing her hand gently up and down my dick while her friend continues to tease and caress my thigh, my hip, now up along my belly. Oh man, being stoic about this is gonna be a lot harder than I thought!

“H-hey... do you guys think you can... not...” I groan quietly, feeling my stomach tense and my body start to squirm against my will. I’ve risen to full hardness now, much to the delight of the two purring, giggling aliens as they press their smooth bodies against either side of me, stroking me, teasing me. Four arms on two girls ends up being more than I can keep track of really fast as I feel groping, fondling hands grab one breast, then the other from the other side, rubbing them in slow, playful circles. A sharp, confused gasp follows as I feel yet another hand slip down to grab my nads, giving them a slow, easy squeeze to test my resilience.

Honestly, I have no clue why these girls are here or what they’re supposed to be here for, but from the way they grin, coo, and nuzzle into me, I’d say that this teasingly curious behavior isn’t actually a part of whatever their job is.

“Na-at ra’l al ha-an,” the second girl says with a smirk, looking to her companion, who giggles in response. She leans in to gently lock her lips around my nipple, sucking it firmly and forcing a moan from me, my knees wobbling as I shift from tip-toe to tip-toe, just trying to stay straight as the two molest me from either side, pleasure mounting rapidly inside of me as they grope my breasts, balls, and penis, which I find now has two hands around it, twisting and stroking along its length from either side, moving faster and faster.

It isn’t until I feel one of the girl’s thick, smooth fingers glide down the small of my back and between my buttcheeks that I start to actively resist, bucking clumsily against the heavy metal clasps that have me bound to the wall behind me. That is not a place I want to go right now, girly body or not. “H-hey, hey hey guys no, quit it, don’t do that, don’t do-- nnnnnNnnn...!” I go briefly cross-eyed when I feel that thick finger press against my butt, my entire body clenching down as she caresses around my back entrance. For a second, I think she won’t be able to get inside of me, but I’m very, very wrong -- a little twist and press forward, and she hooks her finger inside of me, breaching my anus and sliding deeply into me.

“Na-at cSha-ha’l? Hie-hie-hie,” the second, slimmer girl grins, looking up at me again with that wicked smile. Even though I can’t understand her, I know by her teasing tone that she knows exactly what she’s doing and exactly how I feel about it. Squeezing more tightly around the base of my wang, she strokes quicker and quicker, now probing her finger deeply in and out of my butt while yet another hand gropes and squeezes at my firm breast. Pausing her heated suckling at my other boob, the first girl draws back a little, licking at the swollen pink cap of my nipple and then raking her frightening teeth very gently along it, my back arching with confusion and pleasure and sheer shock.

“Oo’l, ran’a-at,” the longer-haired alien grins, her crimson eyes lighting with frisky imagination as she pulls away from me, dropping to her knees in front of me and pressing her chest up against my pelvis. The feeling of her warm, smooth breasts grinding into me makes me feel almost faint as I struggle against so many conflicting sensations, my backside squirming and clenching helplessly along the other girl’s probing finger -- but I have no choice but to let out a moan of bliss when her bustier friend squeezes her boobs around my dick, clasping it between them and starting to firmly squish those perfect lavender orbs up along me, squeezing up along my shaft like a tube of toothpaste.

With inquisitive fingers still fondling and juggling my tightening sack just below, my wiener throbs with blissful anxiousness, seeming to swell past what I’d thought was its full size, only my borderline-panicked state keeping me from blowing my load everywhere already. That panic only grows stronger when I feel a second big finger pressing against my backside, then driving inside, thrusting in deep alongside its fellow. The slimmer alien presses her face into my breast, nuzzling and nipping at it, taking a long lick at my nipple as she gropes both of my boobs now, swiveling them in circles and squishing them against each other, forcing me to succumb to a new kind of pleasure that I’ve never experienced before, never this strongly, never this... amazingly.

I let out a staggered, weakened groan of pleasure, hanging fully from my wrists now as my legs give way, wobbling and collapsing beneath me from the feeling of those soft knockers sliding and rubbing back and forth along my dong, a thin trail of slippery stickiness dripping from my tip to create a creamy, lubricated mess between those amazing globes of joy. She rocks harder against me now, faster, licking up along my belly as she drives me to the brink of ecstasy. The combination of sensations in my breasts, my nipples, my balls, my dick, and -- though I hate to admit it -- my butt, is like a maelstrom of fireworks in my body, surging across every inch of my skin and resulting in a suitable explosion of a more... tangible variety.

The mohawked alien girl beneath me squeals and laughs with delight when I finally erupt, a fusillade of hot white goo blasting out of my dong and into the air, raining down onto her face in a series of long, thick, sizzling streaks. Her laughter fades to a satisfied coo as she gets totally coated in my spunk, strands of the stuff hanging from her horns to drip down onto her bare breasts, and I hear her friend let out an elated whirr as well.

The second alien draws away from me, finally slipping her fingers out of my butt and dropping to her knees as well, helpfully preening her companion by dragging her tongue in long, messy strokes where I blew my goo, lapping up what looks like an entire mouthful of my cum before pressing her lips to her friend’s, seizing her in a hard, open-mouthed, wildly erotic and messy kiss. Passing my spunk to her companion, the other alien emits that odd, satisfied “chrrr” sound but doesn’t swallow, instead seizing her friend’s shoulders and tipping her back so that she can drool a little stream of my cum from her mouth to the other girl’s. This only renews the messy embrace, tongues entwining to churn my seed back and forth like a squirming, fleshy, drooling taffy-puller that -- gonna be honest here -- is not helping at all to get my boner to go back down.

I can do nothing but hang and stare as the pair tongue-fights a war of attrition over my load of cum, leaving me without the slightest bit of context or enlightenment as to what I just went through or why. When it finally seems to be mostly gone, each girl’s bottom pair of arms wrapped loosely around the other’s waist, they turn their gazes back up to me, giggling quietly.

“Hiehie,” the slimmer girl chuckles. “Good. Sweet.”

My eyes widen in shock and, frankly, a sense of betrayal. “What was that?”

“Sweet,” she repeats, lightly licking her friend’s face before standing again.

“You can talk? Erm -- speak? English?”

“Sweet,” she says again, grinning. Her friend stands up beside her, glancing to the hallway in the dungeon behind them.

“Roo’l, coor-at. Ehhh...” she furrows her brow, turning to look at me again. “Xai come. For you. You fight.”

“Fight? Fight you? What do you mean?” I stammer, trying to collect myself as the fog of pleasure still has yet to quite lift from my addled head.

“Not fight Xai. Fight for Xai.”

“Hie-hie-hie.”

Those footsteps grow louder, louder, and I finally see their source behind the intricate maze of metal bars that make up my cell door. More of these same mohawked aliens, four of them -- two men, two women, these ones holding lances and wearing skimpy steel harnesses. One of the males holds a ring of strange, twisted keys, jamming one into the webwork of metal bolts dividing me from the dungeon outside.

“Sha-al,” he says, sending a sharp nod my way as he turns the key. There’s a quick schlink sound like metal dragging along wood, and the gate’s beams draw into the walls flanking it.

“She speak outer tongue,” one of my molestors says with a smirk, moving out of the way for the guards to move into the cell, unhooking my manacles from the walls and attaching them to each other, behind my back. I consider trying to break out for a moment, but if I try that I might never make it out of this dungeon. My best bet here is to get outside.

“Too-a! Na’ash at’l,” the guard snarls, sounding angry and glaring first at the girl, then to me. Poking the butt of his spear roughly against the back of my thigh sends me stumbling forward, my feet uneven from hanging for so long. “Tha’ool!”

“Yeah, yeah. Thewl,” I grunt back, grinding my teeth as I’m led into the hall outside, not knowing much more about my situation here than I did when I woke up. Did have some fun though, at least. Not gonna complain about that. Even if it did get weird when they put their fingers up my butt.

“Out!” one of the armored women shouts, and I stumble out into the hallway, still naked and led to the right, making my way to a set of tall, dark, moss-covered stairs. Behind me in the cell, I can hear the giggling of those two cum-covered alien girls, growing louder and more raucous as I’m led outside and finally, once more, into the light of this strange world.

Those rolling, radiant flames that light the sky crackle and dance up above me, their glow warm on my bare skin as I’m prodded once again, prompting me to shoot a bladed glare back at the guard who keeps doing it. As Allan, solving problems with violence was never really something that came into my mind... but I have to admit, it’s starting to feel more and more tempting. Exhaling through my nose, I look back ahead, walking out into the city, or... town... or tribe, of these four-armed, purple-skinned people.

It more closely resembles a hive of metal and stone than a true city, half-sunken into the swamp with large pods (that I assume are buildings) connected by a dense network of bridges and chains. All connected, all built upon itself, like a stagnant fleet built into the marsh just above the red-rimed abyss of fetid water beneath. “Nice place you’ve got here. They have an American embassy?”

“T’ool!” one guard shouts, jabbing the butt of his polearm into the small of my back.

“Never really got into that band, sorry,” I grumble, turning forward again and continuing to march. The bridge stretches and gives, wide stone tiles strung together with some sort of strong, pliable fiber. Whatever it’s made of, it does the trick, holding us all comfortably as I’m led to a massive central structure at the epicenter of a cluster of larger, more impressive hives, curious heads peeking out of the strange holes that cover each such building. As we draw closer, it becomes more obvious exactly what that wide, low structure I’m heading towards is -- the dense rows of seats ringed around it make that clear. Seats that are currently occupied by a very large amount of aliens.

It’s an arena. And something tells me I’m not here to spectate.

Brought to another strange, formless opening like the one that left the prison, I’m pushed inside, and a new network of steel bars locks themselves into place behind me, sealing me in alone. With one last disdainful growl of “Sool-at,” I’m tossed one of those twisted keys, and I waste no time in clumsily taking it to my manacles. It takes a moment, but less time than I need, and I toss the bulky chunks of metal away before attempting to take in my new, darkened surroundings. Formless, empty, dark, the walls made of a black, dense material that feels almost like a wasp’s nest. At the other end of this small area is another gate, though this one is larger, heavier, and a great deal more menacing. Peeking outside shows a vast, flat expanse of some off-white surface, and another such gate on the other side. A gate that’s starting to open.

“Tha’s ral na-at ru’at! Shas na kuul... Hro’at-ul!” I hear a voice boom out through what must be some kind of speaker or megaphone, though I cannot see the speaker. The opposite gate has opened fully now, and though nothing has exited it, the scream of a crowd tell me it won’t be something friendly. My own gate is slowly opening now, and I swallow hard, steeling myself. Some food before this would have been nice.

“Shas na kuul-ar... thaas Krruya’ta!” I inhale deeply through my nose as my gate clunks heavily into a fully open position. In the darkness of the holding cell opposite me, I can see only the lights from two large, yellow glowing eyes.

I feel a flutter in my chest, and for a moment I mistake it for fear -- but it isn’t. I knew plenty of fear as Allan Douglas, became intimate with it, and it isn’t this. This is anticipation.

This is excitement.

I’m already running forward by the time I see the beast exit its cave, and boy is it a beast, huge and armored and lumbering forward on feet and fists. It opens its slavering pseudo-simian jaws, massive fangs dripping with frothy conquest as it releases a wild scream. My eyes narrow, but I don’t scream back, continuing to run forward as the creature stampedes out of its holding cell.

One brutal swing of a gigantic, clawed fist misses me wide, smashing into the ground beside me, the impact so massive that I feel it reverberate across the stadium, though the pale, flat surface of the arena remains uncracked. Kinetic reflection of some kind? I wouldn’t expect these people to be capable of that, but hey, what do I know, right? All of this is new to me, and the part of my mind that would stop to think about something like that for an inordinate amount of time is suspiciously quiet -- slowly being overwhelmed by a seeping redness, that same battle-lust that filled me when Ciphia was captured. Adrenaline pumps through me, and I feel overcome with a strange sense of purpose.

Leaping outward towards that huge hand, I grab onto the creature’s thick wrist, bigger around than my entire body, and clutch tightly to the dense coat of blood-red fur that covers it, tucking my hands beneath the heavy plate of dull chrome armor protecting the beast’s forearm. Planting my back foot onto one of the creature’s fat, knobby knuckles, I clasp both hands around its wrist and feel for the bones within, finding them, then compressing -- my naked, tattooed body flexing hard, the new muscles of my new arms rippling and straining as I attempt to break the behemoth’s forearm.

I’m punished for my efforts, of course, receiving a frantic punch from the creature’s other arm that slams into my head and shoulder, rattling me but not knocking me loose. Another punch, then another, and I growl through bloodying teeth, dazed, but not stopping. I feel those enormous bones tense, strain, then crunch inwards into each other, and I become awash in the agonized, almost confused screeches of the towering monster I’ve been forced to fight.

Another flailing strike from the other hand, but this one misses in blind rage and pain. I’m mobile now, climbing nimbly up along the plates of armor meant to protect the bestial champion of these people. I find that every finger and every toe is able to easily hold my own weight, letting me balance on even the tiniest vantage points until I’ve mounted the creature completely, straddling the back of its blue-maned, ram-horned head. It’s off balance now, staggering back onto its smaller, weaker hind legs, its broken wrist dangling uselessly while its single good hand desperately claws to dislodge me.

I blink my eyes a few times and spit forth a stream of blood. I can ignore my own wounds for the moment, though I can feel a deep ache already setting into my body from the blows I took. Tucking one foot beneath me and clenching my toes around the thick fur of the creature’s mane, I hook myself into place and reach out to grab one of those massive horns, pinning my other foot onto its other side and applying leverage, a hoarse groan bellowing out of me as I crank back on the stout, knobby black spike that crowns the beast’s brow. Its scream of frustration and pain becomes more wild, and it staggers back into the opposite wall of the colosseum, rocking me so hard against it that I’m almost dislodged, my back leg now dangling loose and leaving me dangling from the hideous thing’s horn, still pulling, still attempting to rip it free. Against the immense strength of my new body though, against the strength of the Deadslayer, it is only a matter of time before it snaps away and sends me sprawling back to the hard mat of the arena -- now armed.

“ReeaaAAAAHHHHH!” the colossal ape-thing wails, stampeding forth again with a full-body charge, flinging itself at me head-first in an attempt to flatten me totally. My eyes widen and I leap for life, sprawling to the left and tucking into a roll, clambering back to my hands and feet and immediately counter-pouncing, holding that splintered length of curling horn like a knight’s sword. Springing up high and fast, I land onto the creature’s back, wrenching up the armor plate protecting its spine before driving that sharp black horn downward with one single, tremendous blow. There’s a spluttering sound, a gout of viscous, reddish-black fluid, and another scream as bone crunches and bursts and gives way -- and the beast spasms, then falls still.

It takes a moment for my vision to clear. I blink, then straighten out, spitting out another stream of blood onto the white mat beneath. Yanking the length of horn free once more, I take it in one hand and slowly lift it into the air -- to the sound of a roaring alien crowd.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o

The winner’s suite is much, much more impressive than the cell where I had previously been kept. For as... rustic, as those insectoid structures appeared from the outside, this one is actually very pleasant, my blood-soaked feet sinking into a plush, deep green carpet. Guards remain beside me as I’m led to the back of what I can only assume is my new room, place with a tall ceiling and spacious floor, decorated with bizarre furs and a massive, oblong bed. My eyes wander around a bit more, seeing a low table laden with exotic plates covered with what I can only assume is food, and then a deep-set pool of clear, clean water -- and I’ve never seen anything more beautiful. Well, not since I saw Ciphia’s boobies the other night because those were so cool, but still. It’s just seriously inviting and really what I need right now.

“Krruya’ta, sha-at,” one of the guards says, a lean male who’s shaved his black stripe of hair down to the scalp. “Noo’l.” He’s the only one of these aliens I can easily recognize right now, part of my escort earlier and the one who wasn’t beating me with his spear.

“Whatever you say, Dave.” I’m gonna call him Dave. “You mind if I get in here?” I grunt, pointing to the pool of water. The alien looks at me in confusion for a moment, then repeats my gesture to the pool. Guess that’s the go-sign.

“Tha’a-at, Krruya,” he continues, heading back to the suite’s entrance along with his fellow soldiers and gesturing to a newcomer as he makes his way out. The newcomer is a girl, the same kind of alien I’ve been seeing here (I assume these are the Xai). She’s tall, like the rest, but doesn’t look like a warrior -- neither in her figure, which is rather slender, nor her ensemble, which is a narrow tabard-like dress of flimsy white gauze. Her skin, as well, is a few shades bluer and a few shades lighter than the others here, giving her a more lavender tone than the deeper violet of her fellows. Dave slips behind her, outside the victor’s chambers and re-activating the net of metal beams that will serve to lock me in. “Gift,” he grunts, then slips from sight, leaving me alone in this place with this girl.

“Uhhh,” I pause, holding up one blood-caked hand. “Hi.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, Lexi here! Looks like you enjoyed this! There's a ton more content -- along with author's notes, other projects and tidbits, even polls and other goodies -- over on my Patreon page! If you liked this, I think you'll really like my work over there, and I'd love your support! Peace! <3
> 
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